A Clean Slate
by aureliamayy
Summary: One month ago, Tobias Eaton became Four, drastically changing the path the rest of his life would take. But choosing Dauntless didn't give him the freedom he thought it would. Instead, he just has more secrets to hide, more masks to wear. He doesn't want to be his old self, but change comes with growing pains. Can be read as a continuous story or a series of one-shots.
1. July 4th: Initiation Day

"You're allowed to celebrate, Four. You were first, for God's sake. You deserve this more than the rest of us." Zeke hasn't stopped taunting me since the rankings were displayed in front of the entire faction. I was proud of myself, of course, but I don't think my success warrants such celebration. I have lost myself here. I am turning into a monster. In everybody else's eyes, though, I am something of a legend. I don't want to relish in my victory - a cold shower and a hamburger sound much more appealing than a night of shouting, drinking, and awkward conversations. But Zeke and Shauna were insistent. And I couldn't say no.

"You know I hate this kind of thing," I say wrenching my elbow from Zeke's grip as he drags me through the ebbing crowd in the Pit. I cringe at every hand that claps me on the shoulder, at every pair of eyes laid on me, sometimes followed my a voice calling out my name.

"That's not true. You've never even been to a real party," Shauna replies. I sigh.

"That game of Dare didn't count?"

"Of course it didn't, pansycake! You're a real Dauntless now, you need to go to a real Dauntless party," Zeke says, glancing at Shauna. "We're members now. We're finally allowed in the bars. Even we've never been to a real party. First time for everything, right?" There is some comfort in not being the only one experiencing something new, but at least Zeke and Shauna have grown up surrounded by Dauntless shenanigans. I still cover my ears at the loud music thumping from the Pit late at night. A month has not been long enough to adjust to Dauntless life. I have no idea how much time I will need.

We shove our way through the Pit's pathways until we finally reach a glass doorway at the end of a dark hall. I've never been in this hallway before, but the crowd here is just as plentiful as it was by the Chasm. Shoulders rub shoulders and toes step on toes and the crowd drags me in like a magnet, despite my efforts to remain on the outskirts. I recognize Cameron, the Erudite girl from my initiate class who I never really spoke to, her arm slung across the shoulders of a tall, bulky man as she stands nearby. Shauna yells out "Victoria! I was looking for you!" before grabbing the shoulder of a girl with a messy bun who Shauna never mentioned looking for. She is out of my reach, out of my sight before I can say anything to her. Even Zeke strays from my side, dragged away by two guys I vaguely recognize from the cafeteria. He mouths a brief _Sorry_ in my direction before being whisked away, deeper into the crowd.

I still have no idea where we are, or what we're doing here. I can see through the frosted glass over the heads of the others - the place, whatever it is, seems to be closed, with a few dark figures darting back and forth between tables. I turn around, plotting my escape when a hand taps me on the shoulder. I take it as an accident and continue walking, but whoever it was immediately calls my name. I turn to look at her - she's tiny, but somehow commands the attention of everybody surrounding her. Her dark hair is wavy and brushes her shoulders as she speaks. It's like she's overflowing with energy.

"Hey, nice job today. Glad to be done with initiation?" she asks me. I pause, hesitant. I have no idea who she is, and making small talk isn't my forte.

"Thanks. Yeah, I guess I am." She nods at me.

"That was the worst month of my life. It only gets better after this." She smiles, taking a sip from a bottle I hadn't noticed she was carrying. She holds it out to me, eyebrows raised in question, but I shake my head. "I'm Aria, by the way. I finished initiation last year."

"I'm Fo- "

"I know who you are," she says with a laugh. "Everybody knows who you are. And I'm friends with Shauna. Zeke too, depending on who you ask."

It's strange that she knows my name, but stranger that she knows my friends. I want to ask her how she knows me; I wish I knew how to talk to people. I'm not as awkward as I was a few weeks ago, but conversation with strangers will probably never be my strong suit. The sarcasm and ease and joking nature of Dauntless banter just doesn't come naturally to me and my Abnegation-wired brain.

"Oh," is all I manage to get out. A swig from that bottle suddenly seems like a great idea. "Do you know where we are?" The way she bites her lip before laughing at me tells me all I need to know.

* * *

Despite the tacky name, Flames is supposedly the place to be for young Dauntless members. Everybody comes here from the day they finish initiation to the day they decide to settle down and finally act like adults - and I have a feeling that won't happen to some of these people for a very long time. It was Aria who rattled off all this information as she dragged me into the dark room with her, introducing me to people whose names I immediately forgot. When she found herself a guy to dance with, I quickly retreated to a booth in the back of the club. They must serve food here, but nobody seems interested in sitting down to eat. It's all laughing and dancing and drinking, the sounds of excitement drowned out by music that makes my head throb. Even if I wanted to leave, I'm not sure I could - the crowd is too large, too tightly packed, too drunk to move out of my way.

It takes me nearly an hour to decide I don't want to be the only sober one here, and I squeeze through the crowd and to the bar in the center of the room. I don't even know what to ask for - I've only ever drank whatever was in that flask when I got my tattoo, and from the bottles Zeke smuggled for Shauna and me to drink with him at our hiding place in the Chasm. I stand, uncomfortable and alone, resting my hand atop the bar. I'm posing as Dauntless. I may be good at fighting and facing my fears, but I don't truly fit in with them.

It's a relief when a somewhat familiar face finally emerges from the crowd, sitting on the bar stool next to me. "Hey Four," says Aria, waving down the bartender with a snap. She asks him for her "usual" and he turns away with a nod. I finally sit down, not really wanting a conversation, but definitely not wanting to seem like more of an outsider than I already am.

"Aria. Hey." She raises her eyebrows at me, but the expression quickly fades.

"That's my sister. I'm Isla." My cheeks flush immediately. She's taller than Aria, with smaller eyes. The bartender is back almost immediately, handing her a glass with a pale liquid and some ice cubes; she sips and glares at me over the rim of the cup.

"Oh. Sorry. You two look really similar."

"Twins. I can kick her ass any day of the week, though." She tilts her head. "You getting a drink?" Admitting my cluelessness about Dauntless life is easier with my friends. It seems like an insurmountable task when I'm talking to a complete stranger. It would be easier to not get anything, but she would laugh at me. And I'd be the only sober person in a half-mile radius. So I swallow my pride and talk.

"I'm… not sure. What to get." I clear my throat. "Just a beer, I guess?" She smirks and waves the bartender back over again - I don't miss the twinkle in her eye as she mumbles something to him that I can't catch, and wouldn't understand even if I heard. His face is tired and dull, but he moves quickly and efficiently as drunk teens incessantly flag him down for more alcohol. He could certainly use an assistant - which reminds me of the fact that I have to choose a job this week. I haven't given much thought to what I want to do. I could see myself training the transfers, like Amar, but that's probably only because I don't know what jobs are available for me here. At least I know I won't be bartending with this man.

We all did the same thing in Abnegation - took care of the factionless, helped in the hospital and the schools, and picked up whatever odd jobs none of the other factions wanted to deal with. Only a few lucky ones got to work in the government. The middle seat in the council had my name written on it since the day I was born. I wonder who will sit in it now.

The bartender hands Isla something that looks nothing like the simple beer I asked for, and she slides the tiny glass over to me. I pick it up nonchalantly, thanking her briefly before bringing it to my lips. I barely get a sip in when she pushes her hand over the bottom of the glass, dumping the liquid down my throat. It burns, more than I feel like it should, and I slam the glass down with a cough. It takes me moment to catch my breath and spit out, "What the hell was that?"

"It's a shot, idiot," she says, laughing. "God, I love transfers. You guys are too entertaining." She looks at me like an unknown creature she's trying to identify. "Where are you from, anyways?" The question is casual, but I immediately tense. I twist my face before answering.

"Does it matter now?"

"I guess not." She shrugs. "I was born here. Thought I'd go to Candor for a while. Changed my mind when I found out about their initiation. Truth serum doesn't exactly sound appealing." I'm tempted to remark that forcing teenagers to beat each other to a pulp isn't appealing either, but I keep my mouth shut. I have to play the part.

* * *

"Isla Holt, huh?" Zeke asks as he stumbles into the bathroom. I followed him here after seeing him trip over his own feet trying to walk on his own - I make a mental note to keep a tighter leash on him the next time he drags me to a place like this. If there is a next time.

"What about her?"

"She's an interesting one. She used to hang out with my friends and me. You know, typical stupid stuff. Jumped first last year, I think. Nope, that was Aria. Maybe. I don't know." He steps into one of the stalls, his slurred sentences fading off. A rambling drunk. Fantastic. "There's two of them, too, if you're into that." My face gets hot, and I'm glad he can't see me.

"No, no, not like that. Not at all. We were just talking. Kind of. She did the talking." I cringe as he stumbles out of the stall, one hand clinging to the door for support. "Why don't we head back to the dorm. You're… we could use the sleep. Long day."

"Mm, sure. Not like that. Okay, Stiff."

"You're not allowed to call me Stiff anymore. And no, not like that."

"I saw you getting her a drink. Looked like _like that_ to me."

"No, she got me one. It was nasty." He stops washing his hands and looks at me, eyes wide.

"Seriously? You're the worst with girls, man. How am I supposed to get you to lose your virginity before the next round of initiates comes around?"

"Let's head back. Seriously, Zeke."

"It's a rule. And since you certainly don't strike me as the hookup type, I've gotta find you a girlfriend." I grab his elbow and drag him out of the bathroom, praying that we don't run into Isla. Or Aria. Whichever one it was, I'm sure Zeke would find some new way to embarrass me.


	2. July 6th: Better Left Unsaid

**I completely forgot to put an author's note on the first chapter - so hello, I guess. This chapter was supposed to be the third, but I am apparently incapable of reading my own timelines, so it's the second now. The original second chapter will be back as the third. Bear with me - I've never put writing on the internet before!**

The day after initiation, we were assigned apartments. They're technically not a permanent living situation, and we're allowed to move, but nobody really does. You're stuck with your roommates for life, Shauna told me, and if you ditch them for any other reason than starting a family, you're an asshole. So, naturally, I chose to live alone. It may have been painfully awkward to wait for a room number and grab just a single key, a short man's eyes boring into me the whole time, as if repeatedly asking me if I was sure - but it was far better than the alternative. Zeke offered me to move in with him, and I almost said yes before discovering that he came as a package deal with his best friends, Miles and Elliot. Best friends who i'm being forced to meet today.

According to Shauna, it's rude of me to ignore everybody except Zeke and her. She moved in with her friend, Victoria Markov, who I was awkwardly introduced to over muffins and coffee this morning. Zeke knows I hate socializing, but he wasn't going to be the one to crack open my shell, to kick me in the butt and out of my comfort zone. That had to come from Shauna, who now has way more power over me than I'd care to admit. Her impressive persuasion skills explain how I've found myself outside an unfamiliar apartment, my clenched fist ready to knock. I don't want to deal with meeting anyone. But, apparently, I have to. So I may as well get it over with.

The door swings open seconds after I knock, but it's not Zeke's familiar smile that greets me.

"Hey, Four!" says a guy with a smile way too big for the occasion. Before I can even reply, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, clapping me on the back. I freeze, wincing - I hate being touched, never mind by strangers in uncomfortable situations. My voice is tight and awkward as I reply.

"Hey." I cringe realizing that he knows my name, and I don't know his.

"I'm Elliot," he replies, like he could hear my thoughts. He's almost as tall as I am, with a tiny nose and a face full of freckles. His hand drags through his dark, messy hair with agitation as he walks inside, motioning for me to follow. He leads me into the kitchenette and living room, where Zeke and who I can only assume is Miles sit on a couch, sipping beers. The apartment is much bigger than mine, but I'm happy to sacrifice space for solitude.

"You've definitely heard of our roommate, Miles," Elliot begins, his words spilling together. "If Zeke hasn't told you about him yet, you're missing out on some good stories."

The guy next to Zeke on the couch, skinny and blonde, raises a hand at me, his lips pulled tightly together. Too serious for somebody like Zeke, or even Elliot. Suddenly, a vague memory hits me - last year's Choosing Ceremony, the first one I attended. Marcus was in charge of the proceedings that year, so I sat in the very back corner of the choosing area, in a tiny wooden chair that made my butt sore. Miles Zimmerman was the first to choose. Black-clothed and confident, he sliced his palm with ease, holding it over the Erudite bowl and squeezing his eyes shut. His wrist didn't shift to the coals until the very last moment, and although he jogged off the stage and into the cheering crowd of Dauntless with confidence and enthusiasm, he was visibly tense. He made the choice to live with the brave out of cowardice. Just like I did.

I guess I can remember some faces, after all. Some of them just stick, and their stories, whether learned or assumed, do the same.

Zeke grabs a beer for me, and the four of us spend the afternoon talking about initiation and where we're headed from here, laughing at Zeke's bad jokes, making fun about Elliot's perpetual bedhead. It feels awkward and unnatural at first, but eventually I smile and laugh and learn to blend in with these people, an art I've perfected throughout my lifetime. Faking it and fitting in just makes things more simple.

"So, four fears, huh? What are you gonna do when you get over one of 'em?" Elliot asks me.

"Not tell anybody?" I say, cocking an eyebrow. I have a feeling I know where this conversation is headed, and I don't like it. And by the warning look Zeke gives Elliot, I can tell he doesn't, either.

"What's your real name, though? You can't actually be just Four in the official records or whatever."

"I am."

"But what's the real name? Do you even have a last name?"

"Why do you care?" I hadn't even thought about the fact that I didn't have a last name here until now. Maybe I should make one up - not only for the stack of leadership training paperwork waiting for me on my counter, but for situations like these.

"Just leave it, Ell," Zeke says, gently pushing his friend's shoulder. The comment is lighthearted and joking, but it's clear Zeke means it. Miles just sits in silence on the couch, looking at me over the edge of his bottle with narrowed eyes. His cheeks are hollow and acne-covered, one drawn in like he's chewing on it.

Elliot scoffs quietly, but it goes unmissed. By me, anyways. I bring my own bottle to my lips, not wanting to deal with formulating a reply or explanation or some other string of lies. I've come to find that lying takes up far too much energy - but telling the truth was never even a possibility for me. I may have escaped Abnegation, but my new life here is an entirely fabricated one. Nobody even knows my name, the most basic of all things

"Fric Stiff," Elliot mutters. He's snickering and he stares at his lap. Miles stares at some point on the other side of the room. Zeke's hands twitch as if he's about to say something that will get him angry enough to send his arms swinging. But there is nothing but thick, uncomfortable silence drenched in tension and stress.

I rise with a start, setting the bottle on the table softly. "Don't fucking call me that, Elliot," I say quietly, trying to inflict as much harm as possible with just my gaze. He won't make eye contact - he _laughs._

"Four - " Zeke starts, but I cut him off with a raise of my palm.

"It's fine. Thanks for having me."

I stride out of the apartment and close the door as quietly as I can before storming back to my own place, quiet and empty and perfect for keeping secrets. So much for making friends.


	3. July 14th: Never All Alone

**This was originally the second chapter, but it's making a reappearance as the third. I'm still figuring things out!** **This chapter is shorter, but it's one of my favorites as it really helped me develop these characters as I wrote this story. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Divergent and all of its original characters belong to Veronica Roth.**

Every inch of my body is shaking. I've shot that person countless times, stared into Marcus's icy eyes over and over again, but it never gets any easier. After over a month of trying, facing my fear landscape shouldn't be an issue - but it is, and that's what keeps drawing me to the cold, empty room.

Already I've memorized most of the graffiti that stains the walls, the only place in the compound not coated in black. There's something strangely comforting about the splashes of pinks and purples and blues, like the designs are the only thing that can draw me back to reality when the simulation ends. Some people have written their names, listed their fears, scribbled the initials of couples and surrounded them with a heart. My eyes are drawn to a phrase scrawled in green paint - "We believe in freedom from fear, in denying fear the power to influence our decisions." A line from the Dauntless Manifesto; a line that could serve me well now. I am not free from my fears. I allow them to overpower me time after time.

Suddenly, there's a thump followed by footsteps. My head whips around, scanning the small window in the door to see who's here. Nobody would come to this part of the Pire so late at night. Or so early - it was almost one o'clock when I left my apartment. Nobody is as crazy as I am, running through their landscape as often as they can, and nobody cares enough to follow me here.

Except for the boy whose dark eyes carve into me through the glass.

"You've got to be kidding me. What the hell, Four?" Zeke mutters, shaking his head. He's the first thing I see when I step out of the room and slam the door, his face illuminated by the moonlight that streams in through the glass walls of the Pire. He isn't smiling, or yelling, or doing something idiotic like the Zeke I know. He seems concerned. Maybe even a little afraid.

I have nothing to say to him as I lift the hem of my shirt to my face, wiping the cold sweat from my brow. I had told myself I would stop after initiation, it didn't matter anymore. That lasted less than two weeks.

"That can't be healthy, man. I had to get wasted after to get over mine. Both times. And you go in there again? For _fun?"_

"It's not fun," is all I have to say as I walk away from the room, knowing that he'll follow me. But I don't want him to.

"Then why would you ever put yourself through that again? Twice wasn't enough for you? Had to make sure you can keep the nickname? Three doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well, does it?" His words bite at me more than they should; I'm always on edge after my landscape. I can tell he wants to comfort me, but more than that, he wants answers. And I won't give them to him. My answer comes as a shrug.

Zeke struggles to keep up with me, my long strides nearly doubling his, but his determination is evident. He follows me down the stairs, and I pray that he'll turn right afterwards, head back to his place with Elliot and Miles. He follows me to the left.

"You're crazy, Four. But I guess I knew that already." I stop in my tracks and turn to face him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. You're just so… I don't know. Nobody knows, Four. You hate being with other people. You were the best one in our class, probably one of the best in Dauntless, but you refuse to act like it. You tattooed your ribcage just to feel the pain. It's like you want to hurt. Or you're just immune. God, sometimes I don't know what to do with you," he says, running a hand through whatever hair he has left. He buzzed most of it off recently.

The only thing I want to do is punch him in the face, but that would only prove his point. I'm crazy. I don't belong here. Nobody knows what to do with me. I left Abnegation to escape my father, and I've only found more people who will never figure me out. I don't think I'll ever figure myself out. I turn to the stone wall, unable to look at Zeke. "I should go. It's late," I mutter. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him nod and slowly walk away. I do the same.

"Four?" I turn around, drawing my eyebrows together. "This is going to sound really dumb. But… if you need anything, you're not alone. You're never alone. I've got you." He bites his lip. I've never seen this side of Zeke - soft and true and gentle - but it bubbles beneath his carefree surface sometimes. There must be more to the daredevil boy I claim to know.

"Thank you."

"Good night."

"Night."

Walking back to my apartment, I think to myself. There seems to be an unspoken agreement between myself and the few people I communicate with - we don't bring up my past, or really anything personal about me. Zeke has never asked me about my name. He knows I come from Abnegation, but he'll only call me a Stiff when it's just him or Shauna around. Despite never wanting to do anything other than mope around by myself, Zeke was determined to befriend me from the very beginning. He is more selfless, more kind than a Dauntless member should be. And now, as I walk away from my four fears, my past and my name and shame, I have a feeling he's thinking about me. Worrying.

I wonder if anybody has worried about me like that before.

Three days later, I'm staring blankly into my cereal when Zeke bursts into the cafeteria, much later than anybody else. He slides between Shauna and me, flashing me a wide smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm still eleven."

It takes me a moment before I understand what he's getting at. I look up at him and my smile doesn't quite reach my eyes.


End file.
